


Truth Serum

by Fuinixe



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [9]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Gore, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Hostage Situations, Interrogation, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Peril, Truth Serum, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuinixe/pseuds/Fuinixe
Summary: "They always spill something useful. My dealer said it was a tweaked formula, but he hasn’t done me wrong yet. And if it doesn’t work on Baseball Cap here for some reason, we can always just threaten his boyfriend.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143242
Comments: 22
Kudos: 216
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Truth Serum

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [BakedAppleSauce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedAppleSauce/pseuds/BakedAppleSauce). Log in to view. 



> Believe it or not, I am _way_ too delicate to write a fill for the default prompt today, which was "buried alive." Thankfully, the good folks at Febuwhump provided a list of alt prompts! 
> 
> If you'd like a more detailed trigger warning, see the end notes.
> 
> This scenario is VERY HEAVILY inspired by BakedAppleSauce's _The income of each precious thing_ (see "inspired by" link). I wanted Joe to be the one dosed!

“Shit, man, he looks _extra_ out of it. Are you sure your hookup was good?”

Joe blinked multiple times, trying to clear the haze over his vision. He felt incredibly dizzy.

“Yeah, I’ve used this crap before on targets. They always spill something useful. My dealer said it was a tweaked formula, but he hasn’t done me wrong yet. And if it doesn’t work on Baseball Cap here for some reason, we can always just threaten his boyfriend.”

_What…?I_

One of the blurry shapes before him drew closer and resolved into a ski-mask-covered face.

“You hear that, man? We’ve got your butt buddy here, too.”

Joe could barely put the words together, but his pulse was pounding in his ears. Some thugs had gotten the better of him, somehow, and were threatening him and --

The words from earlier trickled in. _Boyfriend?_

Joe threw himself forward at the man in front of him, but he could scarcely put half an inch of space between him and the heavy chair he was sitting in. Sensation trickled in and he felt restraints cutting into his neck, waist, wrists, and ankles. 

“Gonna kill you,” Joe said.

“Sure you are. Now tell us where your valuables are.”

“Where’s Nicky?” Joe slurred.

“Dude, I thought you said this worked like a truth serum.” Truth serum? Joe bit down on his tongue, hard. That wasn’t good.

“It does, it does. It must still be kicking in.” A hand came down on top of his head and thumbed an eyelid open. “Who’s Nicky? That your boyfriend?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Joe responded, readily, feeling a pang of déjà vu. Why did that feel so familiar? Why couldn’t he think straight?

“You sure? You two looked awfully familiar with each other. A coupla fags.”

“We...we know each other more than mere _familiarity._ His heart...beats in my chest.”

One of the thugs sniggered meanly. “Oh man, we got ourselves a poet here! Alright Shakespeare, where the fuck are your valuables?”

“Where’s Nicky?” Joe repeated, stubbornly.

“He’s in this room with us, dumbass. Can’t you see anything?”

“Maybe he can’t, Chris. Maybe you gave him too much,” the original voice added.

“Shut the _fuck_ up dude, and _don’t_ use my name. Amateur.”

Joe felt an unpleasant rolling sensation in his stomach. “I’m going to puke,” he said. 

“Go grab that trash can, I don’t wanna deal with this.”

Joe heard footsteps leave and return, then the faint smell of cigarette stubs and day-old chicken salad wafted into his nose, and he promptly emptied his stomach into the receptacle held in front of him. “That’s disgusting,” one of the men said -- Chris.

Joe jerked his head back. He felt a bit better for having vomited, and tried to open his eyes again. His vision was much clearer, now. Sure enough, there were only two goons in the cavernous room, and tied up nearly 30 feet away was the figure of Nicky, clothes bloodstained. Joe felt a pang of fear at his stillness, but Nicky’s head lolled sideways a moment later, and Joe knew he was awake.

“Alright asshole, I’m gonna ask you again. Where are your valuables?”

“In this room,” Joe responded.

“He doesn’t know we took his wallet already, Chris.”

“ _Stop_ saying that, you idiot!” Chris snapped at his colleague, and turned back to Joe. “ _Besides_ your wallet, where are your valuables?” 

“In this room,” Joe said, again, this time with a wry twist to his mouth.

“Ask him something _else,_ dude!”

Joe could see minute movements from Nicky on the other side of the room, and knew he had to keep these thugs distracted. “Yes, ask me something else,” Joe said, genially. “I know many secrets.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the most important secret you know?”

“Love is powerful enough to make eternity glorious, but its absence will make eternity hell.”

“God, what the _fuck!_ ” Chris swore. “This dude is totally useless!”

“You should have dosed the other one, man.” They turned to glance at Nicky, and Joe rushed to keep talking, drawing their attention back to him.

“I know who shot JFK. I know where the man called Jesus is really buried. I know where you can find riches that could make all your descendants wealthy. I know where genuine Monets are hidden --”

“Yeah yeah, good. This is the good shit. Tell me about those riches. Grab me a pen, asshole,” Chris said to his friend, a millisecond before a spray of his blood shot past Joe’s face as Nicky, silent and deadly, crept up and punctured the man’s carotid artery lightning fast with said pen, sending him crashing to the floor, and kicked out the kneecaps of the nameless friend. Before the second man could keel over completely, Nicky grabbed his face, thumbs digging into his eyeholes for extra leverage, and drove his knee into the man’s neck until it snapped.

Joe grimaced with distaste, and Nicky quirked an eyebrow, barely. “What? They would have killed us after.”

“I know, darling, I’m not mad,” Joe answered. “Your hands are disgusting now, though, and I really want to kiss you.”

Nicky huffed. “As if I’ve never gotten another man’s blood on you before?”

“Blood _and_ eyeball paste, habibi.”

“Yes, that too!” Nicky thought for a moment. “Well, perhaps not. Certainly viscera, though.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you want me to kiss you or not?”

“Always, Nicoló. Every moment of my life.”

Nicky smirked and leaned over him. “I see the serum hasn’t worn off yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Joe and Nicky are incapacitated and taken hostage by two men with access to a truth serum. Joe is drugged. The men attempt to interrogate Joe and use homophobic language to describe Nicky and him, including "fag." Nicky frees himself and kills both men in a scene that is brief but pretty gruesome.


End file.
